1986
He threw the money on the counter, sat in his chair, took off his boots. ‘Where’s Luke?’
‘At Ben’s house.’ She picked up the money. ‘You must be the world’s best euchre player. Winning hands every month.’
He looked at her. ‘You got something you want to say?’ He was like this more and more these days. Ever since the letter. It was like all the warmth had drained out of him. Except when he was with Luke.
‘I just want to know where you’re getting it.’
‘Why? What difference does it make?’
‘Are you doing something illegal?’
He laughed softly. ‘Rachel, please.’
‘It’s something to do with Len, isn’t it? He’s always flush. And Malcolm too, for that matter—he’s always flashing his cash. I don’t trust him, Reg. If it’s anything to do with Malcolm, you should stop.’
He stood. Approached the counter. He had an odd look on his face. Angry. Frightening. She took a step back.
‘Then what, Rachel? I stop doing what I’m doing, where are we going to find this kind of money?’
‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘You’re right. You shouldn’t have. We’re doing so well as we are. It would be a shame to spoil things.’
‘I mean it’s better for everyone if we all just keep pretending.’
A knock at the door. He went to open it. She let out the breath that had caught in her chest.
‘All right, buddy?’ Just like that Reg was back to his old self. Luke came running in, followed by Sharon, holding his schoolbag and a piece of cardboard covered in lentils and macaroni.
‘They’ve had a great time.’ She smiled. Sharon was always smiling, despite being married to Malcolm.
‘Thanks for having him, Sharon. What do you say, Luke?’
‘Thank you, Mrs Perré.’
‘You’re welcome, darling. Bye, then.’
Rachel might have imagined it, but there was a look between Sharon and Reg, just before Sharon left. Of what she didn’t know. Solidarity? Companionship? Complicity? She knew. He’d told her. But of course he wouldn’t have done. How ridiculous. She wanted to laugh. And then all at once she wanted to cry.
Luke had snuggled up to Reg already; they were looking at his reading book, about Billy and his blue hat. Luke had been slow to start reading. Just like his dad, Reg had said. Nothing to worry about. He’d get there, in his own time. He was a smart boy.
‘He needs a bath.’ She walked over.
‘I’ll do it when we’re finished with this.’
‘It’s getting late.’
He didn’t look up from the book. ‘You tired, Lukey?’
‘No, Daddy.’
‘Well, then. Like I said. Bath time when we’re finished, eh?’ His arm wound a little tighter around Luke’s shoulder. His head bent a little lower, so his hair, coarse and dark, fell over Luke’s, which was soft and shiny and honeyed brown.
Her heart shifted upwards, towards her throat.
He was using his love for the boy like a weapon.
He was showing her the power he had.